The Same Place (The Lamb and the Lion #2) - Gregory Ashe Page 0,139

screaming, “Tean! Tean!”

If he had heard Tean, or if he had understood the instructions, he was too lost in panic to respond. Roger leaped forward, nipping at Jem’s face, testing to see how Jem would respond. Jem’s arm was still in the way, and Roger savaged the arm instead. Bloody foam gathered at the corners of the dog’s mouth. Not rabid, but full of a predator’s love for the fight, and from what Tean knew of dogs—he thought of the synthetic padding he had found in Leroy’s yard—thrilled to be doing what his owner had trained him to do: attack.

Opening his shirt at the hem, Tean darted forward in the next lull. Roger heard him too late. When the dog swung around to glance at the noise, Tean shoved the polo over his head. Roger made a noise that was half snarl, half surprise. He snapped at the air, but the polo blinded him. Roger was still turning in a circle, trying to figure out what was going on, but Tean didn’t give him the opportunity. He seized the dog by the back legs and lifted him into the air. Roger let out another of those startled barks, his weight now only supported by his front legs, a position he’d probably never been in before. Tean looped one arm under the dog’s hips, freeing his other hand and worked his belt free.

“Hey!” Leroy shouted. “Hey! Let Roger go!”

“Tean?” Jem said through panicked breaths, on the verge of hyperventilating. He was still on the ground. Bites had ripped his arm open in a dozen places, but Jem had it locked in place, still trying to defend himself. “Tean?”

“I’m here,” Tean said. “You’re going to be ok.”

“You’re hurting him,” Leroy shouted. “You’re hurting his legs!”

By then, Tean had the belt free. He forced Roger onto the ground, on his side, using one knee and his body weight to pin him. Then he tied the belt tight around Roger’s back legs. The dog kicked once and whined, thrashing inside the polo.

“Don’t touch my dog,” Leroy roared.

“Tean, it was a dog,” Jem said, still taking those rapid, shallow breaths, his voice breaking on the last word.

“I know,” Tean said, he took a step toward Jem.

Until then, Leroy had stayed in the shadow of the rollup door. Now he sprang at Tean. Tean had forgotten how big he was: taller and bigger than Jem, who was already much bigger than Tean. He crossed the distance between them in two steps, his shaved head shining in the sun. When the punch came, Tean tried to dodge. He was close enough that he could see the chicken skin caught in Leroy’s thick beard. On the side of Leroy’s neck, the tattoo of Roger was snarling at Tean.

Tean didn’t quite get clear of the punch, but it landed at a bad angle, catching him too far forward on the side of his head and clipping along the bone of his forehead. It still hurt like hell. Tean stumbled back. The tall grass and nettles hissed against his legs. Leroy came after him.

“Don’t. Hurt. My. Dog.”

“I didn’t hurt him,” Tean said. “He’s fine. But he attacked my friend, and—”

The next punch was faster, and Tean didn’t get out of the way in time. It caught him full in the face. For an instant, Tean thought his nose had exploded. The world snapped off for a minute, and when it came back, Tean was lying in the nettles, his face throbbing and already feeling twice its normal size. He stared up at the sky. The sun was very bright. The robin’s egg blue looked darker. A bird of prey circled, too far away for Tean to make out what it was. When he sat up, blood dripped from his face onto his chest.

He got to his feet and hobbled toward Leroy and Roger. Leroy was kneeling next to the dog, trying to undo the belt.

“I’m not going to let you do that,” Tean said. The words were thick in his throat, and some of the sounds weren’t right. He wanted to touch his nose, but he had a picture in his mind of an overripe tomato that had fallen onto a tile floor. “Get away from the dog.”

“Fuck off,” Leroy said without looking back. “Next time, I’m putting you down for good.”

“Tean,” Jem was saying. He’d finally dropped his arm, and under the constellation of blood spatter, his face was pale and strangely numb. “Tean, I think a dog bit